


Raincheck

by Hormonal_Trashbag



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Single-Dad Ben, elementary school teacher Rey, prepare for cavities, the floofiest floof to ever floof, very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hormonal_Trashbag/pseuds/Hormonal_Trashbag
Summary: “Is there a problem with Sam?” he asked in a low tone.Miss Rey bit her lip, glancing at the table for a moment.“Not a problem, no,” she answered, “but I am a little worried about him. I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but can I ask about his mother?”Ben bristled. It always came back to this, it seemed. What did it matter? He loved his son, wasn’t that good enough?“She’s not in the picture,” he told her shortly.She nodded as if she had suspected as much. “I only bring it up because…” she trailed off, obviously hesitant to continue. “Well, Sam asked me last week if I could be his mother. Yesterday, he handed me a note with your name on it asking me to dinner. It was pretty obvious he wrote it--”He groaned, mortified. Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His own son thought he was so lonely he needed help getting a date.





	Raincheck

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted this as a trilogy of drabbles on tumblr a few years ago and I've decided to post it on here as well. It is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written.

It was the first weekday afternoon Ben’s had off in months.

Usually, Sam stayed at the after-school program until around six. He would do his homework (what little a first grader was assigned) with the help of peppy college-age girls and had joined the program’s flag football team. His extracurriculars left Sam with just enough energy to go home for dinner and take a bath before bed.

Today, however, was the Parent-Teacher conference day. Ben knows this because he’s had it marked in his calendar for months. He had picked Sam up at noon and since it was so rare that they spent any amount of time together during the week, Ben had decided ice cream was an appropriate way to celebrate.

This, of course, left Sam with a wild sugar rush that, once burnt out, would leave his son in a slump of exhaustion. For now, Sam was working on burning through that sugar, though.

Ben sighed as his son ran down the hall towards his classroom, leaving him in the dust.

It was nearly impossible to ignore his guilt, that Sam didn’t have a mother to take him out during the afternoon or play with him in his spare time. Ben wished he could do more, wished he could have stopped the boy’s mother from leaving, but it’s been three years and Sam probably didn’t remember that woman’s face. She wasn’t coming back, so perhaps that was for the best. Instead, Ben stretched himself thin to provide what he could on his own.

He didn’t want to think that Sam was missing out on something vital by only having one parent but a persistent, niggling part of Ben _knew_ he deserved some semblance of normalcy, rather than the lopsided life man and son led.

Ben followed Sam into the classroom to find the boy barrelling into his unsuspecting teacher while she had her back turned, pealing with laughter as he curled his skinny arms around her waist.

“Miss Rey! I missed you!”

She giggled back, twisting awkwardly to respond. “It’s only been a few hours since class was released, silly.”

Then she looked up and Ben met her gaze.

He wasn’t sure what it was about her that made his chest tighten; while she was pretty, the young woman seemed fairly average. Short, though everyone seemed short to Ben. He exhaled through his teeth.

“Hi,” she beamed up at him, wrestling an arm free to stick out her hand. “You must be Sam’s dad.”

He stared at her palm for a moment too long, clearing his throat and flushing when she quirked her brow at him.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he mumbled, taking her hand and gently squeezing.

It had been much too long since he last dated, Ben realized if he was getting butterflies over shaking hands with his son’s teacher. She was gracious enough to not comment, though he wasn’t certain she noticed.

“It is such a pleasure to have Sam in my class,” she said, leading him towards a low table in the front of the room, “and I’m not just saying that. He’s attentive, gets along well with other students, and his grades are above average.”

Ben sat at the low table, scooching the plastic chair back after deeming it impossible to tuck his long legs underneath it. He sensed a _but_ on the tip of her tongue and looked briefly at Sam.

“How about you do your homework while you wait for us to talk,” he said, ruffling the boy’s short tufts of black hair. “If you finish up early, we can go do something after this.”

That was more than enough to distract Sam, who whooped with excitement as he settled into his desk and tugged workbooks from his backpack.

“Is there a problem with Sam?” he asked in a low tone.

Miss Rey bit her lip, glancing at the table for a moment. 

“Not a problem, no,” she answered, “but I am a little worried about him. I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but can I ask about his mother?”

Ben bristled. It always came back to this, it seemed. What did it matter? He loved his son, wasn’t that good enough?

“She’s not in the picture,” he told her shortly.

She nodded as if she had suspected as much. “I only bring it up because…” she trailed off, obviously hesitant to continue. “Well, Sam asked me last week if I could be his mother. Yesterday, he handed me a note with your name on it asking me to dinner. It was pretty obvious he wrote it--”

He groaned, mortified. Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His own son thought he was so lonely he needed help getting a date.

“That little punk,” he uttered.

Miss Rey flashed him a small smile. “I just thought you should know.”

Ben dragged his fingers through his hair, sending dark curls into disarray, huffing. “Yeah. Right, of course.”

Sam was going to get a long talking-to, that much Ben was sure.

She did something he couldn’t have anticipated. Miss Rey leaned forward to whisper, twin spots of pink high on her cheeks, “If…if I wasn’t Sam’s teacher, I might consider it.”

Ben opened his mouth, then promptly closed it once discovering he was incapable of speech. He blinked dumbly at her, his entire face catching fire.

Her grin widened. “A raincheck, then?”

  
  


* * *

Ben was silent until Sam was settled in the backseat of his black sedan, backpack sitting on the middle seat. 

He wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Are you hitting on your teacher for me?”

The boy looked aghast when Ben glanced at him through the rearview mirror, pulling out of the school parking lot.

“I wouldn’t _ever_ hit Miss Rey,” he answered.

Ben scowled, his tone stern. “Sam.”

His son squirmed in the back, gaze flitting between him and the view outside his window.

“Okay, maybe a little bit, but--”

Ben sighed. “No excuses, Sam. Miss Rey is your teacher, it would be inappropriate for anything to happen between us.”

Sam moaned. “But _Dad--”_

“No, Sam. No buts.”

“You have a butt too.”

Ben couldn’t help cracking a grin when Sam snickered in the backseat. He made a right turn at the light.

As they drove past the park, Sam begged to play on the swings. Ben was feeling indulgent, despite the little mishap with Miss Rey. Perhaps _because_ of it. 

For a moment he wondered if he should reach out to Sam’s mother, his son clearly longed for a maternal figure. He knew it was best not to, not when it would end in Sam being disappointed. Perhaps they should go visit his mother during the weekend instead.

“So?” Sam slid out of the backseat. “What did Miss Rey say? Did she want to go to dinner?”

Ben rolled his eyes dramatically. The boy was practically buzzing with excited energy. “None of your beeswax.”

Sam shot him a sly grin before darting across the grass, dashing for the open swings, hollering at the top of his lungs, “Dad and Miss Rey, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S--”

“Come back here, you squirrel!” Ben called after him, breaking into a run.

  


* * *

Ben couldn’t fully understand the indulgence of celebrating graduation from the first grade. He’d barely celebrated graduating _high school._ Yet, he had to smile at the efforts of Sam’s teacher. He was certain she had covered the costs of pizza and root beer floats herself, and though his son’s near-comatose state was more of an irritation than anything else, it was evident the party had been lively and well appreciated.

Most of Sam’s classmates had been picked up early. When Ben stood in the open doorway of Miss Rey’s classroom, there was only one other straggler, and already her mother was securing the girl’s backpack on her shoulders and rushing towards freedom. Sparing the slender, smiling teacher only a wave and a rushed _thank you,_ the mother tugged her daughter out the door.

Sam was at his desk, arms crossed on the little tabletop and head nestled on top, the skin around his lips stained orange from pizza sauce. Ben snorted, brushing black curls away from his son’s forehead. The kid was out for the count.

“He had four whole slices and two floats. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a seven-year-old pack away so much without hurling.”

Ben chuckled. Like father, like son.

“You should see how much _I_ can pack away,” he replied, glancing towards where she stood in front of the whiteboard, cleaning spray in one hand and rag in the other.

Miss Rey straightened her back under his weighted gaze, chest puffing out slightly, a wide grin exposing a mouthful of perfect, white teeth. “Is that a dinner invitation or are you just bragging?”

He scratched the back of his head, flushing as he remembered that first parent-teacher meeting. A raincheck, she had suggested with a smile. “Both? It depends on what your answer would be.”

“Let’s say my answer was yes. What then?”

Ben slung Sam’s backpack over one shoulder, considering her as he crouched over to cradle his sleeping son in his arms, rising to his full height once certain Sam was in no danger of waking. 

“I’d ask you if you had plans for Friday evening.”

Her cheeks pinkened, highlighting the faint dusting of freckles across her face. Ben nearly swooned at the sight of her, small and unassuming in her modest, teacher’s wear. Her skirt, falling past her knees to show a pair of toned calves, rustled as she set aside her cleaning supplies and approached with slow steps.

“I just so happen to be free on Friday,” she whispered.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I know of a little Italian place. Best meatballs in a fifty-mile radius and they make their own gelato.”

“I love Maz’s!” she said, eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. Miss Rey schooled her features, nibbling on her lower lip, shy as she met his gaze. “Just one thing first. A preliminary test.”

Her eyes drifted down to his mouth and Ben didn’t have to ask what she meant. He gently rearranged Sam, the boy’s cheek resting against his shoulder and his little limbs dangling towards the floor as Ben clutched him to his side. She tipped forward and Ben ducked to meet her with a slow, chaste kiss. Her dainty hand rested on his arm, long finger curling into his shirt.

It was immediately followed by a shorter one, his tongue flicking out to taste her lips.

“What do you think, Miss Rey?” He breathed against her mouth, reveling in the way she shivered. “Do I pass?”

She didn’t get the chance to reply. He wasn’t sure when Sam had woken (had he been pretending to sleep?) but he tiredly mumbled, “Dad and Miss Rey, sitting in a tree…”

Ben kissed her a third time for good measure. “You’ve known him for a year, so I don’t have to apologize for him being a punk, right?”

“...K-I-S-S-I-N-G…”

She huffed a laugh, though there was no hiding the way her face _burned_. It made Ben want to do inappropriate things. “I’ll meet you at seven.”

“...First comes love, then comes marriage…”

“I’ll get a babysitter,” he assured.

Sam squirmed, scrambling to get out of Ben’s hold. “What? No! I want to go, too!” He then turned to inform Miss Rey, “Maz always gives me mini cannoli with teeny-tiny chocolate chips--” Sam swiveled back to Ben. “--And how will you know what to talk about if I’m not there?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he grumbled, setting Sam down onto his feet. The boy and his teacher giggled in tandem.

Ben kissed her again. Because he could. She squeaked, startled by the sudden onslaught. 

Not at all satisfied, Sam crossed his arms. 

“Can you at least tell me when I’ll be allowed to call you ‘Mom?’”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this little fic! Feedback would be appreciated! :)


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